There was something about the day. I don’t know if it was post-chemo light sensitivity, my saturated thoughts, or global warming, but everything was intensely beautiful. My sisters blue eyes, the glass of rosé, and the purple wild flowers in mason jars that dotted the long outdoor table where we ate. The world was lit with colour, and it was luminous.
But nothing of this glorious October day compared to the glistening beauty of the giant turkey legs sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. Shining magnificently amongst its’ inferior white brethren, it dazzled with it’s shellacked brown skin. Alone in the kitchen I gazed at it in awe. For weeks I’d been eating salmon, blueberries and other antioxidant rich foods. But these giant legs were so inviting, and so intoxicating, that I was soon moving in. And while my loved ones ate under the afternoon sun, I pulled off a little dark meat, put it in my mouth, and swooned.
Outside there was a rare moment of quiet, followed by a ripple of concern, and I could hear an apple fall out of the tree and land in the grass with a happy sigh. Then my mothers voice. “What’s she doing? Is she okay?” More silence, then my other sister’s voice, slightly muffled by her glass of chardonnay. “She’s fine, she just needs to eat.” Inside I was in heaven. Rarely had anything ever tasted so good. So with a heaping plate I returned to the festive table, and took my seat. My family, who are concerned that I keep my strength up, were delighted to see me dive in with the abandon of Barney Rubble after a good night of bowling.
|Our Dining Room|
Hours later, after easy conversation, pumpkin pie, and some trampolining, we all said our goodbyes. As my cousin hugged me she handed me a package which contained the other giant turkey leg, carefully wrapped in foil. Greedily I took it, and placed it in the back of the Jeep.
Driving home with Jim my mind drifted to all the things for which I am grateful. And the list is lengthy. And hopeful. And full of love. Then an arsehole in a Lexus cut us off, and I started thinking about my day, and how I wasn’t going to let angry dickhead drivers run over all my memories of such a spectacular afternoon. So I decided, in the event of a fender bender, this is what I would do. I would pull Jim safely out of the car, then rescue my shiny leftovers and take them to the back of the police cruiser. With the windows wide open, we would eat the turkey together while the sky was still pink, the air was still warm, and the big brown turkey leg still glistened.